


Dream and George Discover the Universe

by malberry



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Denial of Feelings, Dream Team Week (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, GeorgeNotFound Visits Florida (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Inspired by Heat Waves - tbhyourelame, Internal Conflict, M/M, Minecraft, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rejection, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Unrequited Love, Wingman Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), based on Dante and Aristotle Discover the Secrets of the Universe, i love that inspired by heatwaves comes up as an autocorrect tag, i might cry writing some parts of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malberry/pseuds/malberry
Summary: Does George ever go to the beach?It’s a dumb question, but he wants to know.When George visits, (And Dream knows he will, someday,) will they go to the beach?Fuck, Dream hates the beach. He hates the sand, and how it wedges its way in between your toes. How it gets everywhere it isn’t supposed to be.But he still sits there, that every once-in-a-while night when he needs to clear his mind.And he holds shells to his ear, and the sound of the waves in front of him echo in his head.Sometimes, the shells have little hermit crabs in them. Dream lets them march away when he finds them.Is the beach their escape too?And what the fuck is he escaping from?-:-A dnf fic based on the plot of Dante and Aristotle Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire SaenzI thought this would be interesting to adapt, and what ensued was a lot of angst.(don't worry!! happy ending, i promise!!)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 40





	1. Infinitely Shitty Days

**Author's Note:**

> making it clear here: ive seen heatwaves get cross-posted even though the author said not to post their work, so im saying the same thing. please don't post my work anywhere. it's my work, you don't have permission.
> 
> second, the minute one of these dudes say they don't want to be in these fanfictions, im deleting this. if i miss it, and don't take it down, please tell me. i'll only write about real people if it is with their consent. 
> 
> third, i had a lot of fun writing this! sorry this note's been so serious, i just feel like i have to get that out of the way. this first chapter is short, but it's really just a setup. sorry if i move a little slow in my writing. feel free to love criticism, it's greatly appreciated!
> 
> the other chapters will be longer!
> 
> LASTLY! I MADE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST!  
> i plan to make a playlist for every chapter with songs that relate to the part of the plot, may drop foreshadowing, or just inspire the tone im going for. consider listening quietly while you read. :)  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32ZNHPVe1ySacqa0J04Kg0 
> 
> Thank you!

The first thing Dream sees when he wakes up is darkness. He buries his head further into his pillow for a moment before forcing himself up, flipping over to sit in his bed. _You say I’m in Love_ by Bane’s World plays from somewhere in the room. Either its sound is muffled, or maybe it’s just Dream’s hearing in the morning, and it fuels his hazy search for the source. He moves almost zombie-like as he reaches around, randomly grabbing at his sheets in search of his phone.

The world is too dark and too light all at the same time, and the sudden blare of the phone screen when he finally touches it momentarily blinds him. _3:46pm,_ his lock screen reads. The psychedelic feeling of the music almost puts Dream back to sleep as he lazily types in his password. He misses the last number and tries again. 

_You say I’m in love_

_I say you’re a fool_

_Look away from me now..._

Dream cuts off the music by closing Spotify, sighing, and flopping back dramatically into bed. 

It’s another summer day. There've been at least 10 of the same day in a row; hot, humid, boring. It isn’t much different than any other day for Dream, though usually, he wakes up earlier. Waking up with the sun has always been how Dream starts his days, though lately, he hasn't been waking up until at least 11am. (A big difference from his usual unable-ness to wake up past 7.)

But there’s a constant dread now that comes with getting out of bed; a weight dragging him down whenever he stands, whispering, _“Go back to bed, Dream, sleep.”_

 _It’s probably the boredom_ , he thinks. 

He should go outside. 

See the sun.

Dream is pale as fuck. His skin practically glows white for someone who lives in a state with _so much sun_. Hell, Florida’s literally called the Sunshine State. But Dream never goes outside, so what does it matter? 

He really only ventures from his house rarely, and when he does, it’s for fast food or maybe a doctor's visit. Sometimes, late at night, Dream will drive to the beach and sit at the edge of the ocean. He lets the waves hit his ankles, water splashing up his legs. If he looks far enough towards the horizon, he can imagine his friends in Europe living their lives. One day he’ll visit them. He thinks about George the most. He’s known him the longest.

Does George ever go to the beach? It’s a dumb question, but he wants to know.

When George visits, (And Dream knows he will, someday,) will they go to the beach? Fuck, Dream hates the beach. He hates the sand, and how it wedges its way in between your toes. How it gets everywhere it isn’t supposed to be. But he still sits there, that every-once-in-a-while night when he needs to clear his mind. And he holds shells to his ear, and the sound of the waves in front of him echo in his head.

Sometimes, the shells have little hermit crabs in them. Dream lets them march away when he finds them. Is the beach their escape too? 

_And what the fuck is he escaping from?_


	2. dream has constant headaches and does literally nothing about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream can hear his own grin when he starts a call with George. It happens everytime they talk, Dream’s eyebrows furrow a little less and the small stressed crease in his forehead worries away. His head is lighter, and his laugh is heavy with emotion. George brings out the best in him, even when he doesn’t think he has a best. Suddenly, Dream isn’t so tired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignoring the fact that this fic is a romace between dream and george, i live for their friendship dynamic. theyre so comfortable with eachother? i love that they can make jokes abt shit and still be platonic. i want friends like that 
> 
> Once again, don't post my shit anywhere, please. This probably won't get crossposted anywhere, but if it does somehow, I will throw away my current outline and end this story with pain and suffering.

_george_

_play minecraft with me_

_gogy_

_g money_

_g money?_

_thats the worst one yet_

_just play minecraft with me_

_geez okay dream_

_so needy smh_

Dream can hear his own grin when he starts a call with George. It happens everytime they talk, Dream’s eyebrows furrow a little less and the small stressed crease in his forehead worries away. His head is lighter, and his laugh is heavy with emotion. George brings out the best in him, even when he doesn’t think he has a best. Suddenly, Dream isn’t so tired. 

He begs George to join his world, a new one, titled _“DreamNotFound land.”_ (George isn’t impressed.) The two spawn at the edge of a desert. And Dream punches George behind him before escaping into the sand. 

“Hey, we should invite Sapnap,” George says, breaking a dead bush. He collects the sticks and keeps running after Dream.

“Spam him, Gogy,” Dream replies. 

The call falls quiet, save for George’s aggressive typing. It’s all broken when Sapnap’s voice fills the silence. Even though he’s spent a good part of the last year playing the same game every day, Dream is happy. He’d savor these moments forever, if he could. The moments when he’s playing with George and Sapnap, the moments when the constant headache, which the doctor said wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, clear away, and the sky is blue. Though, the headaches might be partly caused by himself, because he’d never looked into those blue-light filtering glasses the doctor had suggested. But they always feel like something more than just his computer screen, and Dream never prides himself on productiveness anyway. (At least, not when it comes to self-care. Dream considers himself the definition of low-maintenance.) 

Sapnap’s voice cuts through Dream’s head, like shrapnel to his brain. He jumps in his seat and Patches lifts her head from his bed.

“Hey!” Sapnap shouts.

“Woah, Sapnap, a little happy to see us huh?” George says, a smirk in his voice. 

“You know it, Georgie!” Sapnap joins the server and immediately starts beating the shit out of George. 

“Dream!” George squeals, scrambling away from Sapnap. “I’m out of sprint, Dream! Give me food!” Dream laughs. 

“I’m not your _mom_ ,” he says, punching Sapnap. 

“Dweam, make me a _sammich_ ,” Sapnap giggles. 

They fall into their normal banter. _Yeah, Dream could do this forever._


	3. a personal hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream recognizes a tear as it slips from his eye right now. He lets out a shaky breath, not knowing how long he's been holding it in his eyes. It marks a path down his face, an ugly gash, and more tears follow suit. They fall into his arms, and Dream can't help but let out a peal of harsh, pointed laughter. His body rocks with unwanted emotion. Maybe it's a good thing he's alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter is inspired by sad boy ari's "boys like me belonged in the rain." 
> 
> anyways enjoy some emotionally stunted dream !!

Dream is a fucking idiot.

He'd drag himself out of his chair, today. Away from the kusky smell of his room he's neglected to clean or leave for anything other than food and a once-in-a-while laundry haul. He'd go outside, he told himself. He'd looked at himself in the mirror that morning. Bad idea, for a man who hadn't been getting out of bed for the past week because of constant headaches and waves of self-doubt. 

_ Holy shit,  _ he'd though, his eyes wide at his reflection. _ I need to go outside. Touch some grass. _

And what’s there to do on a hot summer day in Florida?

Swimming. 

And so now he’s sitting at the edge of the pool, the water rising and falling slightly against his legs. His hands are gripped on the side of the wall, fingers turning whiter than they already normally are. _(Jesus Dream, leave yourself alone. Nothing wrong with being pale!)_

Next to him on the concrete is a white T-shirt, the only pattern on it dark gray sweat stains around the armpits. He's not wearing it though, he took it off to swim. So what if it was from the floor? He didn't even remember the last time he'd worn it, just that it had been on the ground for _way too long_. 

It’s not that he’s scared, he just… he isn’t sure.

The pool floor is clear through the ripples, and he’s easily taller than the pool is deep. Worst comes to worst, he can just stand.

Is that cheating? _No, idiot, it’s not cheating to stand in a swimming pool._

Dream turns his head to the deeper end of the pool. He could go deeper…

But he doesn’t know how to swim. _(There’s the problem.)_

He kicks his legs around. The water moves around him and splashes away from his force. It's cold, and the hairs on his legs float synchronized in the water. He feels disgusting.

The sun is hitting his back particularly hard, and he can feel the beginning of a sunburn stretch across his skin. He tries to find it in himself to move, summoning his strength to move his arms back against the hot concrete behind him. His chin is pointed in the air. He looks at the sun for a quick second before looking away.

_This is dumb._

He should go back home.

Dream looks around him for anyone else at the pool. He’s the only one there. Why is no one else here? The pool is really empty for a hot summer like this. Maybe he just needs to see people. Dream hasn't seen, much less touched, another human being in way too long. Sometimes, when he wakes up and his brain is full of clouds, he can register his arms clutched around a pillow like he's holding on for dear life. Who could Dream hold on to? Would anyone let him? The sun screams harsh words in his ears and his back throbs. He touches it, the skin is dry. _That was fast._ Tomorrow it will start to peel and flake. 

Out in the sun, Dream's created his own personal hell. His legs kick in the water, but it feels like the liquid is reaching his throat. He's choking on air. Ratched coughs rake through his lungs and scrape his insides. His throat is raw like his sunburnt skin, and everything around him is just _too much_. He craves his dark bedroom with his closed curtains and comforting bed, his soundproof office that absorbs every small sound he makes. If a Dream whimpers in a soundproof room and no-one's there to hear it, did he really cry? 

Dream recognizes a tear as it slips from his eye right now. He lets out a shaky breath, not knowing how long he's been holding it in his eyes. It marks a path down his face, an ugly gash, and more tears follow suit. They fall into his arms, and Dream can't help but let out a peal of harsh, pointed laughter. His body rocks with unwanted emotion. _Maybe it's a good thing he's alone._


	4. i've been so (un)afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George doesn’t seem like the kind for physical comfort. Then again, he hadn't met him in person yet. George could be a complete enigma in real life, and Dream would have to solve him like an entirely new person. It would be worth it. He can’t imagine that they wouldn’t click instantly, though. George is just too perfect of a person for Dream not to love online and in real life. And if George has stuck around for this long as his friend, he must think the same thing. Besides, Dream needs his comfort. George would understand, spare him a hug or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this better than what i'd written before :)

He should probably see someone.

Dream’s in his truck, a towel draped over the seat to keep it dry. His eyes are puffy and read in the dented rear-view mirror.

_Would it be weird to fly Sapnap out to give him a hug?_ He'd have to give him an explanation. Dream, for someone who's usually very comfortable expressing himself with his friends, wouldn't be able to explain to Sapnap how he's been feeling.

There are so many emotions inside of him he can't name, they bubble like a poisonous stew, or flowers so sweet they're sickening. You don't even realize you've been poisoned until your vision is already hazy. Only then do the flowers present themselves as the weeds they truly are.

Maybe Sapnap visiting would be good for him. Dream’s friends always made him feel better. Maybe he’d help Dream out of his head, back to the blue skies, like on their call a couple of days ago. Would George want to fly to Florida? Maybe George would like to see him.

Dream thinks about George.

George doesn’t seem like the kind for physical comfort. Then again, he hadn't met him in person yet. George could be a complete enigma in real life, and Dream would have to solve him like an entirely new person. _It would be worth it._ He can’t imagine that they wouldn’t click instantly, though. George is just too perfect of a person for Dream not to love online and in real life. And if George has stuck around for this long as his friend, he must think the same thing. Besides, Dream needs his comfort. George would understand, spare him a hug or two.

If anyone can pull him out of his funk, it’s Sapnap and George. He can rely on them to pick him up and bring back those sunny days for him. _(Maybe they can even cuddle like Sapnap always jokes.)_

So he sits in silence in the car, thinking of Sapnap and George. Mostly George, he’s got Sapnap figured out. If he asks, will George fly to him? He’ll pay for the ticket. Maybe if Sapnap says yes, he’d come too.

Driving home, Dream cycles through his playlist. _You Say I’m in Love_ begins again, (he doesn’t even remember adding it to his playlist,) the speakers of the truck surrounding him with sound. It sinks into his head slowly. He’s like a sponge, submerged in water before wrung dry.

_I've been so unafraid_

_To die alone_

How can someone be so calm about a death so painful? Dream is only afraid of leaving surrounded by no one.

His tears fill the corners of his eyes again and threaten to fall again. His back burns. Why is he even thinking about death?

Dream turns off the music, driving his truck in silence. 


	5. dream drives a truck in this story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few minutes later, George has a two-way flight ticket to Florida, set to arrive a few days before Sapnap’s “road trip” brings him too. Dream’s lying down in bed, Patches resting next to his leg. George will be here in three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i like writing shorter chapters :)

“You should visit,” Dream says as he nears his apartment, starting his conversation again from earlier today. “Drive here, it’s not that far.”

“It’s pretty fucking far,” Sapnap responds, laughing. “But sure, man. Why not?” The two sit quietly for a moment. Dream debates saying his next words, he doesn’t know why. They feel weird.

“Do you think George would come?” he asks. 

“Yeah, why not? He hasn’t been really busy this summer. Ask him.”

Dream looks down at his phone and opens his texts with George. Their last conversation had been at 4 am, about a weird Dream had, and for some reason, had to tell George. This definitely wasn’t what George had given him his number for, but he’d entertained Dream’s wild tangent that night. 

“I will,” Dream says, parking his truck and swinging the door open. It screeches a little. Dream’s truck isn’t in the best shape, admittedly. But the truck’s bed is comfy, and it delivers him from destination A to B. He considers himself low maintenance. “You can fly, too, you know,” he adds. “I can even pay for your ticket.”

"No way! My mind’s set on a road trip, now, Dreamie.” 

Dream laughs. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

“See you soon!” 

A few minutes later, George has a two-way flight ticket to Florida, set to arrive a few days before Sapnap’s “road trip” brings him too. Dream’s lying down in bed, Patches resting next to his leg.

George will be here in three days. 

-:-

The time passes surprisingly fast for someone who has nothing to look forward to in the time waiting, and before Dram realizes, he's at the airport scanning the crowd for George. 

He picks George out easily, he’s short, skinny, and about as pale as him. ( _He’s going to get flamed for that._ ) 

“Holy shit,” is the first thing George says to Dream. “You’re tall.” Dream ignores George, laughing as he pulls him into a hug. George pulls away, his face flushing red, and pinches Dream’s skin. “And pale! Oh my god, Dream, you’re _so pale_!” 

“I don’t see why this is such a big deal,” Dream says, mock offended. 

“Do you not go outside?” George ignores his friend. “How are you so light?” 

“I went to the pool, yesterday. That’s outside.” Dream picks up George's suitcase. 

“I can carry that myself,” George offers. 

“All good.”

George stretches his arms out as the two step outside, looking up towards the sky. Dream smiles. George’s eyes are squinted, his view aimed directly at the sun. 

“Where should we go first?” George asks as he turns to Dream, smiling wildly. 

“Uh… Home?” Dream tilts his head towards George’s suitcase, holding the handle a little tighter.

“Gimme that,” George laughs, grabbing the suitcase from Dream. “I meant _after_.” 

“Aren’t you tired from your flight?” Dream asks George.

“I’m never tired,” George responds, his voice dropping dangerously low. “I don’t sleep.”

Dream laughs and opens his trunk of his truck, motioning for George to hand him his suitcase again. George does, their fingers touching slightly as Dream grabs the handle. 

“Florida’s hot, isn’t it?” Dream says, noticing George’s red face.

“Yeah,” George responds a moment late. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Dream says, gently knocking his arm into George’s side. He slams his trunk closed and walks to the passenger side of the car. He opens it, looking at George. 

“Here you go, Georgie,” Dream waves George over to the car, laughing as George sits inside, a confused look on his face. 

“Thanks?” George says, his face still red.

“Of course, man.” Dream walks around the car, stilling for a moment before looking up at the sun. _Today isn’t really that hot, is it?_

“We should stream when we get home,” George says. Dream grins. _When we get home._ He really shouldn't have waited so long to meet George, huh? Dream looks at George. George is looking at him expectedly with wide brown eyes, waiting for an answer. A perpetual blush rests on his cheeks. 

“Huh? Don’t you wanna sleep?” George shakes his head. Dream watches him close his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not tired?” 

“No,” George says. “Just happy.” George’s head lolls slightly to the side. “Turn on the radio,” he whispers. The sun is shining on his face, highlighted pale skin contrasting his dark eyelashes. _Dream has beautiful friends._

“The radio?” Dream laughs. “Do you listen to the radio?” He picks up his phone instead, opening Spotify. “Pick something,” he says, tossing the phone into George’s lap. 

“No,” George whines. “The radio.” Dream shakes his head and turns on the radio. It’s that god-awful song _High Hopes_ , overplayed for about the 7.5 trillionth time. (It wasn’t that bad the first couple of times, but _please_ , it’s been _so long_.) George doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Dream looks from his friend to the road, eyes glued to the car in front of him as he drives home. 


	6. george attempts to drown dream (it's an unsuccessful murder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow, okay, this isn’t romantic at all. Aren’t you supposed to hold my back while I float? And like, stare deeply into my eyes?”
> 
> George tries to teach Dream how to swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll probably come back and edit this chapter-

“I don’t wanna go swimming.”  
“You wanna go swimming.”  
“I said I don’t.”  
“You don’t have to.”  
Dream pauses for a moment. “Let’s go swimming.” 

-

“You can’t swim?” George asks incredulously.  
“I can’t swim,” Dream repeats.  
“You can’t swim.”  
“Nope.”  
“Oh.”   
“Wanna go home-”  
“I can teach you-”   
Dream looks down at George. His eyes are wide with surprise.  
“We can go home,” George starts.  
“Nah, let’s stay.” Dream looks around. Once again, no one is at the pool. “You’re gonna teach me to swim, right?”   
“Yeah,” George decides. “Come on.” 

Dream slowly steps into the pool, watching George sit down on the ledge like he had the day before. George kicks gently, splashing Dream. Dream swats at his legs.  
“Stop,” he says, his voice wobbly.   
“Are you trying to lower your voice?” Dream wheezes.  
“No! Grab the wall.” Dream does as George says. “Now kick.”   
“George, this is stupid.”  
“I said kick, bitchboy.”   
“Wow, okay, this isn’t romantic at all. Aren’t you supposed to hold my back while I float? And like, stare deeply into my eyes?”  
“What the fuck?” George pushes Dream’s head underwater, laughing when Dream shakes his head and coughs.  
“You tried to drown me!” Dream says accusingly.   
George ignores him. “Move your arms like this.” George waves his arms around, imagining himself pushing water out of the way. Dream mirrors him, pathetically doggy-paddling.   
“This is the dumbest shit I think I’ve ever done,” Dream says suddenly, stopping and holding the wall again.  
“And that was the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen,” George laughs.  
“I hate going outside.”  
“I can tell,” George leans down to the water to poke Dream’s side.  
Dream pushes down with his arms on the side of the pool, lifting himself out of the water. George, still bent over the edge of the pool, watches as the water runs down Dream’s side.   
He promptly looks away.   
“Let’s go home,” he says, only looking at Dream once he drapes a towel around his shoulders.  
“Please,” Dream says.  
“You can play your music on the way back,” George offers as the two walk back to the car.   
“Thank God.” 

-

The next time Dream and George venture outside is for food.  
“Dream, we ordered lunch and dinner yesterday, and lunch today. We’re eating out for dinner before Sapnap comes and makes us get takeout every day.”  
“Where?” Dream asks.   
George thinks this for a moment. “McDonald's,” he decides.  
“That’s the same kind of food we’ve been having inside, and don’t you have that in England?” Dream asks, his mouth quirked.   
“I don’t care, and not like in America,” George says.   
“Alright, McDonald's it is, Georgie.” Dream wraps his arm around George's shoulder. “Get ready for the full American experience!”  
Dream and George pile into the truck and George’s hand moves towards the radio. Dream swats it away.   
“Dude, just pick a song,” he says, handing George his unlocked phone. George sighs.   
“What song?” He asks.   
“I dunno, just pick something.”  
George laughs for a moment and types his song into the search bar. The song plays out of Dream’s speakers, and Dream slowly turns to George as he recognizes the song. George’s eyes are practically glowing, his body shaking as he tries to hold in a laugh.  
“Is that… party in the USA?” Dream says slowly.  
“Yes, Dream, yes it is.”


	7. always forever

Dream decides to order way too much food at McDonald's.

 _He practically orders the entire menu,_ George thinks. George settles for some fries.

Dream is halfway through animatedly explaining his genius idea of ordering extra so he can eat leftovers for days when Geroge zones out. Dream’s eyes are bright, a muddy yellow color in George’s perspective. Piss yellow, kind of, but still beautiful. If you ignore the piss. Maybe more amber? Some kind of blend between Yellow and a brownish-gray, and endlessly warm. Not like piss, like a hug. _(Jesus, stop thinking about piss!)_

And God, does George need a hug. Everything in him yearns to reach forward and wrap his arms around Dream, Dream wouldn’t think it was anything more than platonic. And it is, _(is it?)_ it could be, it could be whatever Dream wanted it to be. George wouldn’t overstep, he’d be careful, he won’t ruin what he and Dream have.

Dream is undeniably straight. Like, painfully straight.

And George is… not straight? He’s not sure. He just knows he likes watching Dream go on about… is it the perfect fry size now? Something about its density compared to the price. It makes no sense, even when George is paying attention. It’s funny to watch Dream stumble through a mathematical explanation on why to get medium-size fries. _Dream is shit at maths._

“Hey,” Dream says, breaking out of his tangent. “Wanna drive with me?”

“Huh?” George asks. “Where?”

“I have a spot,” is all Dream says as he starts wrapping up his leftovers. George stands up from his seat.

“Okay,” he says softly, fondness seeping into his tone. He hopes Dream doesn’t recognize it.

The sky’s darkening when Dream and George arrive at their destination. Dream takes George’s hand, leading him from the side of the road down the beach. Soon, they disappear from the light, and George can’t see any more beach houses in the distance. (George considers increasing his render distance. He really needs to go outside more.)

The air is clear, it tastes like salt from the ocean. George wants to bend down and pick up a seashell but he doesn’t want to slow Dream down. They’re almost there. Dream leads George down the beach until the sky is almost completely dark and they’re alone. He sits in the sand, dragging George down with him. Dream doesn’t seem to notice that their hands were still connected, or how George’s face is burning bright red.

Dream is beautiful, his chin turned slightly towards the stars, his arms resting behind him, holding him up. George lies down, sand tangling in his hair. He’ll wash it out later.

“I come here to clear my mind,” Dream says as if it was a normal occurrence.

“I can see why,” George whispers. He allows himself to look at Dream, just for a moment.

Dream is slowly sliding down into the sand, his hands burrowing between the small grains. His head falls and rests right next to George’s, his arm pressed against his. George holds his breaths, letting them go with a slow shutter. The air leaves him, and he waits before breathing back in. He tries not to gasp, wondering if Dream can hear him breathe. Why the fuck is he so self-conscious? He’s fine, everything is fine. Sapnap will be here tomorrow. For now, he should savor his time with Dream. _Not that he’s leaving…_

George’s eyes are glued to Dream. _But this moment feels special._

“I like to look at the stars. Count them, maybe.” Dream’s voice is a whisper. “It’s nice, being so far away. I’m alone, but it's nice” Dream looks at George. “It’s kinda cool that you’re here,” he says, chuckling.

George isn’t sure what to say. “Thanks for bringing me,” he settles for.

“Anytime,” Dream says.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but George feels he should say something else.

“I like the stars,” he blurts.

“Yeah?” Dream sighs into the sky. It’s not tense. The air surrounding them is calm, content. It engulfs them.

“They’re pretty.”

George glances quickly at Dream. His eyes are closed.

“They are.”

-

_Do friends go stargazing together?_ Yeah, if they’re close. And George would consider Dream a close friend. A best friend, maybe. But do friends bring each other to their special places, the places they share with nobody? 

Dream’s spot on the beach had been kept to himself until he showed George. He’d said it’s what he liked about it,  _ “I‘m alone, but it's nice.”  _ He wasn’t alone when George was there, was he? Even more, was he lonely? Dream hadn’t seemed lonely, that night with the stars. He looked complete. He looked happy. His eyes were crinkled ever so slightly, taking in the entire universe. Holding it in his arms, close. 

Would he hold George just like he held the stars?  _ When he looked at George, did his face reflect in Dream’s eyes, the same way the galaxy around them did?  _

George is yearning like a bitch, he decides. Maybe he needs to lie down, clear his head.

George allows himself to fall into the sheets of the bed. Turning on his phone, he opens Spotify. It's stupid, but he searches for a playlist he didn’t make, “ _ Your Coming of Age Movie _ ,” and presses shuffle-play.  _ Always Forever, _ by The Cults begins. 

_ You and me always forever _

_ We could stay alone together _

Tonight, as he falls into sleep, George is the universe. 

_ You know, you’ve got me in your pocket  _

_ You don’t just have to wait around _

_ You know I’ll keep you in my locket _

_ Just come here and we can settle down _


End file.
